Like a Fool
by 00tiva0jisbon00
Summary: Everything was falling apart. It was all there in his letter. He was leaving. Did he have any idea what that was going to do to me? I had to stop him, he was going to get himself killed. And that may or may not take me with him. JISBON! Read and Review!
1. Like A Fool

Chapter 1

It was just after three in the afternoon, we had just finished another case. Caught another killer. It sucked, knowing that no matter how many murderers we bring down, there's always more. Too many more. But, as long as we caught them it didn't matter, right? That's what Patrick Jane seemed to think, seeing as he, yet again, pulled one of his stunts, risking my job. But, he had said that he'd always be there for me, that he'd always save me so many times, and whether I liked it or not I trusted him. He asked me to trust him, and against my better judgment, I did. More than I'd care to admit. So, maybe, just maybe, it was a little more than trust. I couldn't have fallen for Patrick Jane, the man who sought out revenge, the man who has never gotten over his wife and daughter? As much as I denied it, it was true. I had fallen. Hard. Definitely against my better judgment. Not that I could do anything about it anymore, no, I was in way too deep.

I walked into my office, longing to rest my legs after chasing the murderer nearly a mile at top speed. Thank you, Patrick Jane. My eyes darted to the floor, catching on something white underneath one of my desk's legs. It was a paper. How the hell could it have gotten there? Someone had to have put it there, and it wasn't me. My mind jumped to Patrick, _wait when did I start calling him Patrick, it was, and still should be Jane, _but he had no problem saying anything to anyone's face. Yes, confidence was something that he had plenty of, that and ego. And boy did that annoy me, him and his damn ego. I lifted my desk up, moving the paper out from under it with my foot. It was a note. A hand written note.

_Dear Theresa, _it read. The sudden realization hit me as if someone had just punched me, it _was_ Patrick, no, Jane. The date read a week in the future. What was going on?

_I can't stay. We're never going to catch Red John like this. It just won't happen. It is my hope that you will be able to understand. Good bye._

It wasn't even signed. The bastard couldn't even sign the damn letter. He hoped I'd understand? It was all a lie, everything he ever said to me. He said he'd be there for me, but he was leaving. He said he would always save me, but he was the one who caused me to need to be saved. I should have seen right through the lies, but I couldn't. I let my emotions get in the way. And he probably knew the whole time that I loved him. He just played with me, keeping me at arms length, then he told me he'd be there, he'd save me. And now he was leaving, just like that. He didn't even have the guts to say it to my face.

I looked out the window of my office, he was still here, they all were. I had told them that they could take the rest of the day off. I felt the rage in my stomach threaten to boil over, and if that happened, so help me I might just shoot him. I wrenched the door open, letting my anger take control for a short time. I stepped into the bull pen, the letter clenched in my hand. The whole team looked up, startled by my sudden angry appearance. Only Jane didn't look up, he lay on his couch like nothing was wrong. But with Jane, something was always wrong, no matter how much I tried to fool myself otherwise. I walked up to him and thrust the letter on his chest. His blue eyes searched my hurt, angry face.

"You disgust me," I snarled, my voice filled with venom. I whirled around, nearly running out of the office. I barely reached the elevator before the tears in my eyes fell. I was powerless to stop it, they kept coming, streaming down my face. I stepped out into the rain, immediately soaked head to foot. Nothing like rain to go with a broken heart. Yes, that was it, that was what I was feeling. Heartbreak. I could see it now, my heart in a million pieces, too many to piece back together. Again. Why did this keep happening to me? It all started with my mother, when she was hit by that drunk driver. And then it just kept going, on and on and on. Like the snowball effect. And each time it was just worse and worse. But all I could do was work through it because I would never do anything to hurt myself. It was demeaning. My mother wouldn't want that.

I crack of thunder brought me back from my thoughts. I realized I had been standing in the middle of the parking lot for what seemed like forever, just standing there. I reached my car just as a sob racked my side. I sat next to the car, my back leaned against it. Tears streaming down my face, I sat there in the rain. I had thought that maybe, just maybe he would come after me. But he didn't. He didn't care enough. That hurt more than anything I had ever felt before. I would never be enough. Never. I let him play with me, hypnotize me. I was just another subject, nothing more. Like a fool, I gave into him. Like a fool.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, so... what did you think? Don't be afraid to click that blue button that says review(unless I'm the only one who sees it!)! :$**


	2. What Hurts The Most

Chapter 2

They were in the bull pen, where Lisbon had just stomped in, threw something at Jane, told him that he disgusts her, and left. She left early. But this was Lisbon, she never left early. They doubted she left before eleven most nights. So, something was wrong, very wrong. Van Pelt looked up, watching Jane jump up and walk into Lisbon's office where he shredded the piece of paper. She had no idea what he could have done to make Lisbon so upset, she was fine ten minutes ago. Rigsby, who had been eating a sandwich, put it down to look at Jane in confusion. Cho, knowing that Jane had to have done something, just glared at him. And Jane, being the mentalist that he was, noticed all of this, but wondered how long they'd really continue.

"Well?" Van Pelt demanded, the tone of her voice was irritated. He looked at her, knowing what she was going to ask, but decided to let her say it anyway.

"Well what?" he shot back with equal amount of force. She glared at him, her eyes like daggers. She had grown, since she first arrived at the CBI. At first she had been wary of him, now, like everyone else he had worked with for a while, she had no problem standing up to him. Especially if it was for Lisbon, who she liked to think was not just her boss, but a friend, who she could go to if need be, and vice versus.

"Aren't you going to go after her? She was really upset," she said, aware that she was stating the obvious. With him and Lisbon, it was rare that they weren't arguing, but nothing had ever gotten this bad. Never. Lisbon wouldn't let it, so, that left Jane.

"Nah," he said casually, "She wouldn't want me to." The other two agents' heads snapped up at this. They looked at each other, shocked, Jane always made sure that Lisbon was okay. Always.

"Bullshit," Van Pelt snarled, surprising everyone, including Jane, considering she wasn't the one to usually use that sort of language. She shook her head, realizing that he really wasn't going to go after her, "Whatever, but what ever you did, it looks bad. I think she has had enough of your mind games and ridiculous plans, because I sure have. And it isn't even my job on the line it's hers. But, that's not what this is about, is it?" Van Pelt got up and grabbed her bag, shoving several files into it before she stormed out the same way Lisbon had left just minutes earlier.

* * *

I thought he would have come after me by now, but it looked like I was right. I was just a play toy, someone who he could just mess around with. Nothing more, but maybe even less. It was impossible to tell with him. I stood up, completely soaked and hopped in my car, putting the key into the ignition. It started with a jolt before I pressed down on the gas peddle and sped off into traffic. I didn't pay attention to any of the speed limits, no, all I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and go to sleep. To forget about the letter I had found today, to forget about the new found feeling toward some mentalist, and to just forget about Patrick Jane all together. I didn't care when he was planning on leaving, but I wasn't going to let him play with me any more. I was not one of his subjects. I never would be anything else to him. And as much as I would like to think I was more than a co-worker to him, I wasn't and probably never was. Because who was I kidding, this was a man who only cared about revenge and would do anything to get it, this was a man who was still in love with his wife and child. I meant nothing. At all, period end of story.

* * *

Eventually the rest of the team left, sending him ice cold stares as they walked out. It was as if they thought it was all his fault, oh wait it was. She wasn't supposed to see that note until after he left. Clearly that hadn't gone as planned. He didn't want to hurt her, but he to get away. They weren't going to catch Red John like this, just waiting for him to strike again, no, he was going to have to do it himself. And she didn't understand that, wouldn't. He thought she would've, but he was wrong. And he didn't go after her, he didn't try to explain. He didn't try, he was as shocked as the rest of them. But there wasn't anything he could do about that now. She hated him. Truly hated him, period end of story.

* * *

I was home, finally home, door locked behind me, gun on the table just in case _he_ decided to show up. I wouldn't shoot him, but I would at least have the gun in view. Besides, if he was going to come after me, he would have already, he made up his mind, and I made up mine. I knew I wasn't going to get to sleep yet, it was way too early, so I turned on the radio, hoping it would relax me enough to sleep. Just as I turned it on a new song was coming on; it was What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts.

_I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house_  
_That don't bother me_  
_I can take a few tears now and then and just let ?em out_

_I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while even though_  
_Goin' on with you gone still upsets me_  
_There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay_  
_But that's not what gets me_

_What hurts the most_  
_Was being so close_  
_And havin' so much to say_  
_And watchin' you walk away_

_And never knowin'_  
_What could've been_  
_And not seein' that lovin' you_  
_Is what I was tryin' to do_

_It's hard to deal with the pain of losin' you everywhere I go_  
_But I'm doin' it_  
_It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone_  
_Still harder gettin' up, gettin' dressed, livin' with this regret_  
_But I know if I could do it over_  
_I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart_  
_That I left unspoken_

_What hurts the most_  
_Is being so close_  
_And havin' so much to say_  
_(Much to say)_  
_And watchin' you walk away_

_And never knowin'_  
_What could've been_  
_And not seein' that lovin' you_  
_Is what I was tryin' to do, oh_  
_Oh yeah_

_What hurts the most_  
_Was being so close_  
_And havin' so much to say_  
_(To say)_  
_And watchin' you walk away_

_And never knowin'_  
_What could've been_  
_And not seein' that lovin' you_  
_Is what I was tryin' to do_

_Not seein' that lovin' you_  
_That's what I was trying to do, ooo_

I turned off the radio as the song ended, as I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but they just ended up falling down my face. He knew, he had to have known, after all he was the supposed psychic. He always could guess what I was thinking, so he knew. He knew all along, and still was doing this. That's what hurt the most.

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**A/N: So, how was that? Reviews and suggestions are very welcome! **


	3. Like A Plague

Chapter 3

It was 3:30 in the morning, and I was awake. Awake enough that I wasn't going to get back to sleep, no matter how much I needed it in all actuality. I reluctantly climbed out of bed, grabbing the clothes that I planned to wear today. I shoved them on my body and passed a hairbrush through my hair, not really paying attention to what I was doing. Twenty minutes later I ended up in my car, bag and coffee in hand and keys in the ignition. It was a good thing that no one was on the roads, because it was no likely that I should actually be driving, as tired as I was. I slowly cruised down the roads, enjoying the silence and darkness. It was nice to have complete silence, not having to worry about anyone but yourself. Too bad it couldn't last. I drove into the parking lot, immediately glancing around to see if my consultant's car was parked still. It wasn't. I let out a relieved breath that I didn't realize I was holding. Even after I managed to convince myself that I was okay, and that I didn't care, I still wasn't sure whether I could face him without all the emotions coming rushing back. Even thinking about the events of yesterday made my mind start to spin out of control. But I had to do this, I couldn't just stay home. And I couldn't leave, like a certain jackass seemed to think he could. But, of course, he could, he had nothing keeping him here, it was all about Red John. As long as he had that to occupy himself with, he was okay. That wasn't enough for me, I had my team, who were my friends. This was my home, it had been for years, and I wasn't prepared to let it go. But what was I thinking? I'm not the one who is abandoning everything, and everyone. I actually cared. I suddenly heard the noise my engine was making, and realized I was still in my car, I hadn't actually gotten out yet. _Shit. I can't just zone out like that. Especially not when everyone else gets in. _I opened the door, my bag over my shoulder and coffee in hand, and stepped out, slamming the door behind me. I walked confidently into the CBI building, and then into my office. It was perfect in the early mornings, no one to file complaints, no one to ask her stupid questions, and no stupid consultant to screw things up and give me more work. The silence was truly golden. She sat down, opening a file to fill out the paper work for yet another complaint toward one Patrick Jane. I was completely emersed in file after file, concentrating on anything but yesterday, I jumped when I heard someone knock on my office door.

"Shit," I muttered, hoping whoever was out there didn't hear, or maybe they did hear and decided to leave me the hell alone. "Come in," my mouth said before my brain could acknowledge this and stop it.

The door opened, revealing a very tired looking Grace Van Pelt. 4:00a.m.? What was she doing here?

"Van Pelt? What's up? You don't usually come in this early," I asked, knowing that I don't usually ask about their personal lives, but I was in no mood to talk about mine, so anything to distract that from her mind. I knew she was wondering about yesterday, they all were. _Maybe Jane's 'psychic' powers were rubbing off on me. Shit. Of course they weren't, they made him an emotionless bastard. I refuse to become that. _

"Well, I woke up, and couldn't get back to sleep, so," she started, hesitating slightly, choosing her words carefully, "I thought I might come in and do some work. But I came in and realized that all my paper work was done and your light was on, so I thought I'd come in and ask if you need any help." I smiled, signaling that I appreciated the offer, "Well most of it needs my signature, but you are welcome to fill it out and leave it for me to sign. Yeah, I won't argue with less paper work. Thanks." She nodded, waiting for me to sort out what I needed done. I passed her the files, smiling once more in thanks. She walked to the door, pausing before she left, "Uh, boss, I know we don't usually talk about our personal lives here, but if you ever need to talk, just call." I raised my eyebrows in confusion before realizing she meant yesterday, then sent her a half smile to let her know I understood. But, that did not mean I would necessarily call her. I wasn't the type to tell everyone about what I was doing. No, the only person that ever knew what I was thinking was the last person I wanted to see, the man who could supposedly read minds. Which, incidentally, made everything much, much worse.

* * *

Maybe they were right, maybe he was wrong, maybe he should have gone after her. But, it was two in the morning, she was probably asleep and would most likely shoot him for waking her up at this hour. He didn't _want _to hurt her, but he needed to catch Red John. If not for himself anymore, but for his sanity. He had to have something to live for, first it was his father, then his wife and child, but now... what did he have, that losing would destroy him again? Nothing jumped to his mind, making him even more sure that he needed to leave. He had received at tip about Red John and planned to board a plan to L.A. in a few days, but now he had to go sooner. He had to go now. She wouldn't understand until much later, but he _had _to do this. He was alone. He was empty. And it was destroying him.

* * *

Van Pelt left me to go back to my paper work. But I couldn't concentrate. Yesterday's events kept creeping into my mind. As much as I loved him, I hated him, maybe even more. But I was still worried about him. He thought he was alone, that he had no one. But he wasn't, he had me, not that he realized it. How could he see so much, but then see nothing at all. When I had looked into the mirror after my mother's death I had seen no emotion in my eyes. Ever since then I had hoped to never see that in anyone else, ever. But ever since Patrick Jane had been saved by Red John that look started to creep into his eyes. Now that I actually thought about it, I remembered him looking like that more and more. I grew steadily more worried. Quickly I opened my computer, looking through his credentials, and files to give any indication of where he was going. She had to stop him. He was empty. It was going to destroy him. Then her. It was like a plague.

* * *

**A/N: So, reviews? :$**


	4. Into The Darkness

Chapter 4

One ticket, one flight, one time, and one chance. One chance that he'd get away, and one chance that I could stop him. I had to try. His flight was originally in three days, but now, it was scheduled for 5:10a.m.. Today. _Shit. That gives me no time, forty minutes._ It wasn't enough time, but, when was there ever? Not with this job. I jumped up, grabbing my bag and racing out the door. I wrenched the door open, only to have to fiddle with the lock on the other side.

"Uh, boss?" Van Pelt asked cautiously. I looked at her, noticing how concerned she looked. She was worried about me, not necessary, but still nice.

"I have to go. I'll be back later, tell Cho and Rigsby that your in charge. Handle everything, don't call me unless you have no other choice. But, it had better be life or death. Understood?" I breathed, not wanting to waste any time explaining what was going on. This wasn't anyone else's battle but mine and Jane's. We were the only one's who needed to be involved, to minimize the damage. To minimize the hurt. Van Pelt nodded, understanding that I wasn't going to tell her anything else about the situation. She was proud that I left her in charge, but, why shouldn't I? She was perfectly capable of doing the job. And doing it right. That was the key. I bolted out of the office, not looking where I was going, and not really caring. I scrambled into the car as it lurched forward when I pressed down on the gas peddle. I sped off into the morning still worried that I wouldn't make it in time.

I had to stop him from getting on the plane. I knew everything, including the fact that he was going because he got a tip about Red John. It was a trap, I was sure of it. He was being consumed by his own emptiness, and it was spreading like a bonfire to all those around him. Twenty five minutes later I swerved into a parking spot. Four fifty five, no time left. I ran, faster than I ran when I realized he had been taken hostage, faster than I did when I tackled a suspect, darting around people as I scanned the crowd for the familiar blond head. There it was, about to board a plane. _Shit, shit, shit! _

"Jane!" I yelled, he didn't turn. But of course not, he didn't expect anyone else to know, to come after him, to care. "Patrick Jane," I yelled again. This time he turned, staring at me as I came closer. He was shocked, he didn't even move to try to board before I got to him.

I smiled at the flight attendant, "I'm sorry ma'am, but he won't be boarding, this, or any plane today." Jane opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut when he saw the murderous glare I sent him.

"You," I said coolly, "Come with me." The command was sharp, cold. Icy. "What the fuck do you think your doing?" I spat at him. He looked at me, his eyes held no emotion, just emptiness, darkness.

"Well, I was trying to leave. Why do you insist on asking questions that you already know the answer to?" he asked with a smirk playing at his mouth.

"Why are you leaving?" I asked, scared of the answer.

"Red John," he stated simply, like it was obvious, and unfortunately it was.

"Patrick, you don't understand. You can't leave, you can't go after him like this. You're playing right into his hand, doing everything that he wants you to do. He wants you to kill him, to ruin your life for him. That's his plan. Please don't, you promised," I begged, which was something that I almost never did, but this was a special circumstance.

"No, Lisbon, you don't understand. I don't care if I ruin my life, I need to kill him. Look at what he did to my family! I have nothing here, _nothing. It doesn't mean anything to me._ None of it," he spat, his words stung more than anything I've ever felt before. I looked into his eyes, finding myself to be relieved, there was emotion, anger, but it was something. Maybe there was more hope than I had thought.

"There are people here that care about you, that _need _you," I repeated, remembering the time, years ago I said the exact same thing to him. It hadn't had any affect on him then, but maybe now it would. Either way it was worth a try.

"I don't care."

"Yes you do, you have to," I pleaded, more trying to convince myself than him, "You promised. You're the supposed mentalist, you have to know!" I felt anger fill my voice as the realization hit me.

"And so what if I do know?" he asked. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, it had to be wrong.

"You're not going," I managed to choke out. He nodded, knowing I would use any means necessary to keep him from going. I walked away, trying to swallow my tears and succeeded, motioning for him to follow.

Why was I saving him? He just told me that he knew that there were people that cared about him, that needed him, and that I was in love with him, and he didn't care. He was like a black hole, everything came in, but nothing came out, ever. I drove us back to the CBI, not saying anything to Jane along the way. We came in to find Van Pelt telling Cho and Rigsby what leads to take where. They stopped as we walked in, staring at us.

"Van Pelt," I choked out, motioning with my head that she was to follow me into my office. I walked in steadying myself by grabbing a hold of my desk before sinking into the chair.

"Keep an eye on Jane. Discreetly. Let me know if you notice anything off," I ordered.

"Sure," she said, shocking me by not asking if everything was okay.

I watched her leave, closing the door behind her. I buried my face in my hands. I felt it, the same tug that he had felt when his wife and child were murdered, the same tug when my mom, then dad died. The tug that tried to get me to give into the darkness, just like he had. But, I wouldn't. How would I ever heal, if I let darkness and despair consume me? But, somehow, I knew I was already there, in the darkness, I just needed to find a way out. For me. For him.

**A/N: Yeah, kind of dark at the end, but, it plays into the next chapter. Jisbon warning for the next chapter! And then more hurt, then say hello to romance! But I need some reviews! :$**


	5. My Own Knife

Chapter 5

I couldn't concentrate, no matter what I did, the conversation with Jane kept coming back into my mind. '_I have nothing here, nothing. It doesn't mean anything to me. None of it.' 'I don't care.' 'And so what if I know?' _No matter how many times anyone says, 'Stick and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me', it's not true. The fact that I denied the truth for so long, just makes it worse. This shouldn't be happening, I'm Lisbon, I'm supposed to have everything under control. Supposed being the operative word. I felt the sting of more tears in my eyes, if just thinking about the conversation could do this to me, what would happen when I actually had to talk to him? I couldn't go losing control, I was supposed to be Senior field Agent. That came with responsibilities, and losing control was not one of them. Don't I wish? I pushed myself out of the chair and toward the door. I paused before leaving my office, the last thing I wanted was to see one Patrick Jane and have him use his mentalist crap on me. I didn't want him to see how broken I really was, but, knowing him, he probably already knew. And due to the enlightening conversation we had just had, he probably didn't care. So, screw him. Honestly, I wasn't sure why I felt so obligated to help him. Maybe because his job requires him to help others, but he doesn't even realize that he needs it just as much. Or maybe it was that even after everything that had happen, I still might be in love with him. Might. I just wasn't sure any more. And even if I was, it wasn't like it would get anywhere. He didn't care. I had no idea how I would ever come to terms with that. The thing that scared me the most was, I actually believed him when he said all of it. And no matter how much I hated to admit it, I still did. Believed it, that is.

Slowly, yet still confidently, I turned the doorknob, stepped out of my office, and walked towards the bathroom. I glanced into the bull pen to see what my agent were doing. Big mistake. There he was, just laying on 'his' couch, pretending to be asleep, pretending that nothing was wrong. Too bad it was exactly the opposite. Tears sprang into my eyes again, if I couldn't even look at him with out crying, which I didn't do very often, then how the bloody hell was I supposed to talk to him, or even be in the same room as him? That was a question I was going to have answered... After I got back from the bathroom. I continued on my way, completely unaware that Patrick Jane had, indeed, watched the whole scene unfold in front of him. I stepped into the bathroom, glad that I had made it there in time. I stood in front of the sink, contemplating what I should do next. I turned on the faucet and put my hands under the cold water, splashing my face. I looked into the mirror, my face was sopping wet, my hair hanging down by my face, I even had bags under my eyes due to the lack of sleep. I looked awful to put it bluntly. After drying my face with one of many paper towels I breathed, in and out. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out. I could do this. I had to do this. I walked back to the bull pen, where I found all of my agents sitting around Cho's desk, whispering.

"Not talking about our personal lives on duty, are we?" I asked already knowing the answer.

"Well," Rigsby said, "we aren't talking about _our _lives it's more like-" he was cut off by Van Pelt slapping his arm. He got the hint and shut his mouth, averting his gaze to the ground. I shook my head, knowing they were talking about her, and why she had been acting so weirdly. Too bad no matter what they said I wouldn't say anything to them. Not a chance in hell.

"Jane. My office, now," I said, already walking back to my office. He walked in, closing the door behind him and positioned himself on the opposite side of the room as I.

"Did you really mean everything you said at the airport? Because I find it hard to believe that you really-" He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine. He brought me closer as I brushed my hand through his hair. We broke away gasping for breath, as he regained his posture. He rushed out the door, trying to avoid answering the question.

"Hey," I exclaimed realizing what he was doing, "Get your ass back in here, Jane! What were you playing at?" He stared at me directly in the eyes, not blinking, not giving any indication as to what he was thinking at all.

"Okay," I started, "Now we really need to talk." I hoped he meant something by that kiss. But something, something in my gut told me it meant nothing. Just another one of his tricks.

"Don't worry," he said and I felt my stomach drop, "It didn't mean anything." He looked at me and I knew he saw the hurt and betrayal hidden in my eyes.

"Of course not. Why would it?" I let my anger control what I said, "You were right before, no one here means anything to you," I could feel my voice getting steadily louder, "We're all just more subjects for you to use, for you to manipulate! In fact the only reason you're here is to entertain yourself and to get the security clearance," my voice dropped, "You can't just go around manipulating people's feelings and kissing them."

"Don't you mean by kissing them?" he asked innocently, like the correction would have been made by anyone. My eyes flashed in anger.

"What?" he asked, this time confused, "I'm not hurting anyone, so I don't know what the problem is."

I shook my head, "You have _no _ idea _how_ much you hurt the people around you. _None._ And you want to know why that is? It's because, like you said before, _they _don't _mean anything_ to you. We don't." I turned him around and pushed him towards the door again. Once he was out he turned back around to say something to me. But, I was done, I didn't want to hear it.

"Get your lazy ass out, and keep it the hell out!" I shouted, positive that half the floor had heard. I slammed the door behind me.

I sank back into my chair, completely consumed by my thoughts. He used me again, and I let him. I should have expected as much, but I let my guard down, and he took advantage of it. I thought that talking to him might have shed some light on the situation, might have made it hurt less. It didn't. It made it worse, much worse. I couldn't believe he had just done that, I almost wouldn't, but, I had been there, I saw him. Maybe we never _really _knew him, maybe _this _is who he really was. I guess you never really know a person... But he had promised me, and I had fallen for it, I had believed him. I protected him, and what did I get? Stabbed in the back? Yes, he had done just that. He had gone back on everything he said to me, he lied. He used me, told me to do things I almost never did. Trust. And he just stabbed me in the back, with my own knife. He reopened old wounds. Wounds, that no matter how much time they were given, the never seemed to heal. Someone would just come and reopen them. Someone like him. I had promised myself when he was assigned to my team that I wouldn't trust him, that I wouldn't let him use his mind games on me. But I let him in, I trusted him. And he used that. Yet still I could hardly believe it. My own knife.

There was a reason why I never trusted anyone, everyone that I had ever trusted had left me, hurt me. I couldn't take that happening to me again. And yet again, it happened. I used trust like I would a knife, only give it to those who you're sure won't use it against you, and be careful when using it yourself because it can still cut you. I gave my knife to Patrick Jane, the mentalist, and he used it. Plunged it into my heart and left it there. Walked away without a care in the world, like nothing was wrong. Left me there to bleed, to hurt. It was unbelievable. My own knife.

**A/N: So, did you catch the whole trust/knife metaphor? ?Reviews? **


	6. Too Late

Chapter 6

He felt empty, still. Jane had known that Lisbon had feelings for him, but he had no idea how far she would go for him. He was still furious with her; she had stopped him from finally killing Red John. But he couldn't help but wonder if she was right. Was he really playing right into his hands, doing exactly what he wanted Jane to do? For the first time he was truly angry at her, she should have understood why, both for his leaving and why he said everything that he did. He was empty, no emotion, aside from anger and hurt. When his wife and child died he let the darkness consume him, only living to take down the bastard that did it, not to him, but to his family. That being said, what bugged him was what she hadn't said. He knew she was thinking it, but she wouldn't say it. Was he really any better than Red John? Before he would've said yes in an instant, but now, he wasn't so sure.

Normally he would've left as soon as she told him, '_To get his lazy ass out, and stay out!'_, but he couldn't. Anytime he tried he would see her eyes, so hurt and betrayed, pleading with him. Begging him. And Lisbon never begged anyone. Ever. He had no idea how much he had hurt her, the letter alone had done something that not even the mentalist could unravel. Usually she would have called him out on it, called him an inconsiderate bastard and left it at that. But, something had broken inside of her, he was sure of it. Had it been something he said before? On any other day he would have been so sure of everyone of his actions, every word he had spoken, but after what she said, there was no way that was possible. Not even him. _'You have no idea how much you hurt the people around you. None. And do you want to know why that is? It's because, like you said before, they don't mean anything to you. We don't' _She had said 'we'. How was it that she thought that, truly thought that, and he was positive that she did, and she still went out of her way to 'protect' him? Why did she feel the need to? It was one riddle that he couldn't solve, just like what she was feeling, he couldn't figure it out. And why was he going to let her keep him here? If he had truly wanted to leave, then, hell, he would have. He did want to go after the bastard who killed his family, but this time, maybe he wasn't going to get away. But, still, her eyes, how hurt they looked. If she asked for an explanation, and got one, she'd be even more hurt. He would stay, he decided, not for him, but for her. If she broke any more he didn't think anyone could pick up the pieces. That is if she would let them, which she wouldn't. Jane knew that, which was why he couldn't let that happen.

Another call, another crime, another chance. A chance someone won't come back, a chance that I could get hurt in more way than one, and a chance that the person hurting me was someone that I considered a friend. But, either way I had to take the call, go to the crime scene and solve the mystery. I laughed under my breath, something I hadn't done in a while, it was funny, I solve everyone else's mysteries, but I can't even solve my own. Patrick Jane, that man truly was a mystery. I stood up and walked slowly to the door, I didn't want to face Jane, no after he kissed me and then basicly told me he was just using me. But, I couldn't let him get to me. That would be my downfall. I stepped out of the room and into the bull pen where my agents seemed to have learned their lessons about gossiping on the job and were actually doing work for a change.

"We've got a call. Rigsby, Cho, you two are going to our first suspects' house. Van Pelt, back round checks. Jane, with me, I need to keep an eye on you. But before we go Van Pelt, a word?" I asked, not really needing to, but since she was doing me a favor without even an explanation.

"Uh, Boss, this is probably not what you want to talk about but, if we haven't even been to the crime scene how do we have a suspect?" she asked as we walked away from the rest of the team.

"Well, the L.A.P.D. told me that the girlfriend of the victim has a questionable history. So, our first suspect. How's your little side mission going?" I wondered, blatantly curious.

"Well something's definitely up, considering he hasn't even figured out that I've been keeping tabs on him. I know you aren't going to tell me what that is, but, if you need help, I can help even if I don't have all the facts." I nodded in acknowledgment surprised about how okay with it she was.

"Oh, and the desk work is not punishment, I figured you'd need a break from Jane. Lord knows I could use one once in a while."

"Actually," she responded much to my surprise, "You were telling him off for quite a while and the rest of the time he was on 'his' couch staring at the ceiling. But, still I don't mind." She walked off before I could say anything else. She always was upbeat. I walked back to Jane beckoning him to come with me to my car. Just as we left the building his phone went off, startling us both.

"Hello?" he answered it. Someone on the other end was talking, and luckily for me, I could make out some of the sentences.

"Time's been changed. Tonight. You know the place in L.A." I felt my eyes grow wide with shock, the meet was tonight, in L.A., which was where we were going. _Fuck. _He snapped the phone shut and hopped into the car, the passenger's seat. I started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and on to the busy roads. There was no way in hell we were going to get to the crime scene today. Which just made the current situation a whole lot worse.

"Jane. Your are _not _going to that meet that's tonight," I told him, bracing myself for the fight.

"Lisbon, you aren't in charge of what I do outside of office hours. I can go as long as we aren't working," he said, his voice cold and firm. I knew what I had to say next, but I was dreading it. Ever since I found that letter I knew I'd have to say it eventually, and it looked as if he was going to force me to say it sooner rather than later.

"Patrick," I used his first name, which meant business, "I hate to have to say this but I think you need to hear it. You need to choose: Red John, or us, Patrick. I don't want you to have to choose, but it is for the best." I felt awful, worse than that, for saying what I said, but if that got him to stay, to not destroy his life, to care, then it was well worth it. Even if he hated me, or never forgave me. As long as he was here, safe. _Is that the field agent in you speaking, just trying to keep everyone safe? Or is it still something more? _I didn't know the answer to that. And something told me that if I did, I probably wouldn't like the answer. No matter which it was.

"Are you really going to make me choose, Lisbon? I thought you were above that," he said, his voice venomous.

"If you're doing this for you wife and daughter, then think about it. Would they really want you to ruin your life for some bastard? You have us, the team, we're like a small disfunctional family. We can help. Are you really going to lose all that?" I asked, hoping the words would have some affect on him. They did. Not the right affect, though.

"Don't bring them into it," he spat, "If _you _were _really _family to me then you'd understand why I have to go. But, you don't." I flinched at the meaning of the words and for a split second I thought I saw some remorse. But as soon as it was there it was gone, replaced by fury. I turned back to the road, ending the conversation, afraid to speak. I had no idea what would come out of my mouth, if it would be a cry, or something I would later regret. We drove the rest of the way in silence, finally pulling into the parking lot of a hotel at twelve in the morning. Normally we would have arrived sooner, but with traffic and the fact that we left considerably late we made good time. We walked inside, requested two separate rooms, and walked off toward them.

"Patrick," I stopped him right outside of the rooms, "Please, please don't go tonight." His eyes met mine and I had no idea if that meant he was going or not. I unlocked my door and walked inside, only wanting to take a nice long shower.

I had just finished my shower and was in the process of getting dressed when my phone rang. It was Van Pelt.

"Lisbon," her voice was urgent, "You wouldn't happen to be with Jane would you?"

"N-no," I stammered.

"Well, his location is changing. He's going somewhere," she said, clearly worried.

"Dammit! Don't worry about it, I know where he's going. Thanks." I shut off the phone, grabbed my clothes, shoving them on my body as fast as I could manage. I ran out of the room, then the hotel, then to my car, where I jumped in not even bothering to buckle my seat belt. I sped off into the night, toward the old warehouse where Jane was meeting someone. I suddenly caught sight of it, and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, I had no idea that I went that fast. I closed the door silently, and walked towards the door. I heard the crash of something breaking, and on instinct I kicked the door in, gun drawn. As soon as I was in I saw Jane on the opposite side of the room just standing there. Then I felt something hard crash down on my head, and I dropped to the floor as my head exploded in pain. I fought to stay conscious, struggling more like. The man, thinking I was down, went back to Jane, where he grabbed the hilt of his knife and hit Jane in the temple. He went down as well, but wasn't unconscious. He lay on the ground, stunned by the pain, just watching the scene continue to unfold in front of him. I tried to sit up, but was slammed down by the man. He straddled me, and I realized with horror what he was going to do. I fumbled around the ground for my gun eventually finding it. I pointed it at the man and fired, three expertly aimed shots to the heart. He was dead in seconds. But not before he had gotten my shirt opened.

I struggled to catch my breath as I attempted to re-do the buttons to my shirt. Jane, by the time I finished, had made his way over to me, a sad look in his eyes.

"What?" I spat, disgust rolled off my tongue, "You're not going to me that I should have let him rape me just so you could get your stupid information, are you?"

"No, Lisbon," he started, but I cut him off, "Patrick, save it, you've already made your choice." I saw the sadness in his eyes, but at this point I didn't care. I couldn't.

"Lisbon, I'm so sorry. You were right. I'm so sorry," he actually sounded sincere, but, he had sounded sincere when he said other things that he didn't mean.

"Yeah," I said, "For me, too bad it's a little too late."

**A/N: Wow, my longest chapter yet! Still more to come, and romance should be coming soon, things are just taking a little longer to explain than I thought. Some reviews or suggestions might help, if you know what I mean. I hope you liked it! :)**


	7. Unspoken, Unheard

Chapter 7

We called the police, or, well, I did. We gave our statements and as it turned out, the man was a known rapist in the area, but they never were able to find him. It sounded like us, always looking for Red John, coming so close, but still failing. Miserably. Maybe this was how our case would turn out, someone else taking him down, not knowing who he was. Of course considering we didn't know what he looked like, it was likely that, that's how it would turn out anyway. But you never know. I didn't think Jane even knew this because, as it seemed, Red John was the one person he couldn't read. And no matter how much I hated Jane right now, I couldn't bare to see him in that much pain. Too bad he couldn't see it in reverse. When it came down to Red John, I hoped he wouldn't murder him, I didn't trust myself if I had to arrest him. Or after. If anyone thought I was an emotional mess now, which I was, then hell, I'd be completely unnerved. Everything would change. I didn't mind change, no quite on the contrary, I thought change was good, as long as it was slow. Progressive. But if it was at the blink of an eye, then it was awful. Too many things in my life had been like that. One minute my life had been perfect, I had a loving mother and father, the next my mother was dead and my father was drunk and I was taking beatings instead of my brothers. It was living hell. Quick change was not something I was good at. Maybe that was a good thing, but considering the latest change of events, I might want to get used to it. But, I didn't think anything could prepare me for the number of things that could happen. With Patrick Jane, you never could tell. Not until it was too late.

We were in the car, he was driving, and for once I didn't have the energy to fight him. Not this time. I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. I felt my eyelids droop, I still knew what was going on around me, but I was minutes away from finally sleeping. It was something about hearing the constant sounds of Jane breathing and the low roar of the engine. Maybe I should get one of those sound makers.

"I'm so sorry, Theresa," I heard him whisper, he didn't know that I wasn't asleep, "For everything. You've shown me how to feel again, and I hope I can show you that before it's too late." I fought to make myself not smile or say anything. He thought I was asleep, if he knew I was awake he might not have said it. I was glad he said it, I knew he wasn't completely 'okay' but he was on the mend. As was I.

My eyes fluttered open, closed, then open. We were in front of a traffic light, currently on red. He was looking at me, his tired eyes searched my face. I tried to erase any evidence that I heard what he had said to me, he'd tell me in time. I had to act like it was unspoken, unheard. The only problem, that wasn't true. He had said it, and I had heard him. Pretending I hadn't heard proved to much more difficult than I would've thought. But he showed no recognition that he knew that I knew. But, there was something different in his eyes, something I didn't see very often. Was it...? Could it be... pity? It was, he pitied me. I hated when people look at me like that, like they feel sorry for me, I don't need it. It doesn't help anyone, not me, not them, no one. So why bother? I felt myself grow angry, he knew I hated it. Honestly, it was stupid to be angry, I knew that, but with how my week had been, emotions jumping all around, and the lack of sleep, I couldn't help it.

"Jane, the light," I reminded him as it turned green. Man, he really _was _exhausted. "Uh, do you need to switch seats with me?" I asked, concerned because, clearly, like me he hadn't been sleeping much.

"Uh," he sounded surprised with my offer, "Nah, we're almost there any way, not much point." Throughout my life I had been in plenty of odd situations, but this was definitely one of the most awkward situations I had been in quite some time. It was like with every breath we took, the awkwardness grew. And it wasn't like we could just stop breathing, no, breathing was kind of a necessity. Okay, more than kind of, it just was.

I looked around, narrowing my eyes because I didn't recognize anything. There was no way we were 'almost there'.

"Okay, so maybe almost was stretching it a little. Actually we have four more hours. I had to take a detour, and then, well, you know bad I am with directions," he explained, sensing my confusion.

"Not good with directions? You? No way!" I said sarcastically.

He glared at me, "Your sarcasm it duly noted, Agent Lisbon." I rolled my eyes in what Jane called the 'classic Lisbon way', ending the conversation. We lapsed into a semi-awkward silence, not speaking ore even looking at each other.

"Jane?" I asked cautiously, after three hours, I should have recognized something by now, "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"Nope. Like I said, I'm bad with directions, especially since I didn't bother to get any," he said like it was nothing at all. My mouth dropped open at the prospect of being lost with Patrick Jane. Some would say that it could be a good thing because, after all he was a 'mentalist'. My response every time: 'Like hell it could be'. And boy did I mean that.

**A/N: So? I could really use some reviews, since I haven't got any lately... :( I really do appreciate all the suggestions and constructive criticism. It really helps, so that being said, reviews? Anyone? Now on another note, I got a Nook(one of those e-reader type things) and it is awesome! I think I might be in love! Actually I'm just kidding. But still, it's awesome!**


	8. Show, Not Tell

Chapter 8

Lost. Dammit, we were lost. The prospect of being lost wasn't what really got to me, no, it was being lost with one Patrick Jane. I closed my eyes, _Come on, Theresa, breathe. Deep breaths, in and out. Okay, now, don't kill Patrick Jane. Don't. _

"Jane, if you know you're not good with directions and you don't know where you are going, dontcha think that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to get, I don't know, a map?" I asked, my voice took on an irritated nature.

"Well, one, you're not really supposed to read while you drive; two, it was dark so I couldn't see any way; and three, this is much more fun, it's like a mystery," he said in all seriousness. I looked at him, dumb founded, _So this is how his mind works. It is interesting, even if I don't always see the logic. Okay, make that almost never. Because, I have no idea how this could be fun. Well... actually I can... No, bad Theresa! _

"Don't you think we get enough mystery in our job? You know, because we do investigate murders, unless that, of all things, has evaded your senses," I replied tartly.

"Now, now Lisbon, no need to get grumpy. You're just mad because if we can't find our way then you don't get your coffee."

"Yes, that helps," I retorted, my voice laced with sarcasm, "I hadn't even thought about that minor detail, but now, well. There's no avoiding it now, is there?" He looked at me, his mouth curled up, _he thinks this is funny! Well, clearly he hasn't ever talked to me when I haven't had my coffee. _I glanced around the car not really looking for anything. Everything was in order, he hadn't even messed with the navigator... _Wait, that's right! My car has navigator! Finally some good news. And now I know he got us lost on purpose. Which begs the question, does that make us actually lost?_

"Well, Patrick Jane, did you get us lost on purpose?" I said in mock confusion. He didn't say anything, for once he didn't expect my response. I'd better mark my calender.

"Is that a 'yes'? Because with how observant you are, you couldn't have missed the GPS," I inferred, arching my eyebrows, _Actually, I really do kind of wonder about the logic behind this idea. Why did he get us lost?_

"Like I said before," he replied casually, "This way is much more entertaining." I shrugged my shoulders, signifying that I didn't really care which way was more fun. I turned on the navigating system, choosing the right settings carefully and finally typing in the destination address.

Five and a half hours later we pulled into the CBI building, six thirty in the morning. We managed to get all the way without too many arguments, which was impressive, considering my lack of coffee.

"Well, one bad thing came out of this," Jane said with a slight frown on his face.

I glanced at him, curious, "And what would that be?"

"I can't argue that I'm bad with directions anymore. I followed the navigator's just fine," he pouted. I rolled my eyes in response just as we walked into the bull pen. Cho was reading, Van Pelt typing, and Rigsby, sleeping; no work was being done, yet again.

"Oh, hey boss," Van Pelt greeted me casually. Rigsby's head lurched up like he was surprised, "Wha-? No, I wasn't asleep!" he said, giving me a worried glance. I laughed under my breath, they hadn't left last night.

"Ah, not to be rude," Van Pelt interjected, "But, honestly, it shouldn't have taken that long to get back. Did something go wrong?"

"Yeah," I said glaring at Jane, then seeing her worried expression, I continued, "I let that jackass over there drive, so naturally he decides that it'll be 'fun' to get us lost."

"Hey," he said with a fake hurt face, "You had to let me drive, you were practically asleep on your feet."

"Need I remind you that, that is your fault too," I said, continuing to glare at him, "Oh, I'll stay and get some work done, you guys should go and get some rest. I'll let you know if we get a new case. Go home." Rigsby jumped up at once as if he was afraid I was going to change my mind. He ran out, but had to double back because he had forgotten some food at his desk. Van Pelt looked at me, not sure if she should actually leave, but she did after I nodded. Cho, who at this point seemed to be the most normal of us all, just walked out with his nose stuck in his book. So, maybe not. I turned to leave the room, but seeing Patrick Jane laying on his couch actually looking peaceful, made me stop in my tracks. I smiled at the sight, and knew that he meant what he said in the car when he thought I was asleep. It felt good to make a difference, to actually have gotten through to him. Because after so many people had tried, it was me who did it. It was me who saved Patrick Jane.

"Lisbon? Why are you staring at me?" he asked with the usual mega-watt grin on his face. My head snapped up, _shit._

"I- uh...," I failed miserably at trying to come up with good excuse. Besides, he'd just tell me I was lying anyway, so what's the point?

"You heard what I said in the car," he stated standing up. My eyes widened guiltily. I looked down, unsure of what to say, he really did know how to catch me off guard.

I looked up a few seconds later to find Patrick Jane crashing his lips on mine. It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on, again with the catching me off guard. I laced my hands around his neck, responding to his kiss. _Wait, his kiss? Oh, God. I'm making out with Patrick Jane. _The alarms that were going off in my head immediately shut off when he snaked his tongue into my mouth. _You know if this is how he's going to __**show**__ me he's sorry, then, well..._

**A/N: That's all folks! Yeah, my little cousins just left and they were watching all these cartoons, so hence the 'that's all folks'. Yeah, it's true this is the end, but, I got another idea that I really need to get down on paper. But, your reviews are still very appreciated! And, am I the only one who thinks that the song Thing's I'll Never Say by Avril Lavigne is a perfect song for the Jisbon pair? Again, reviews = happiness! And better writing, but that's a given!**

**xxxRebecca**


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